


Love's Languish

by Raaj



Category: Bravely Default (Video Game) & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Hanahaki Disease, for those who don't know the trope, hanahaki means unhappiness ahead
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16946712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raaj/pseuds/Raaj
Summary: An anon's request for a drabble about Ringabel having hanahaki disease turned a bit too ambitious.  Still a WIP.





	1. Chapter 1

One of the first things Ringabel knew after waking up with amnesia was that he was very sick. It was obvious from how hard it was to breathe the moment he woke up, already gasping.  His throat was scratchy, and his chest heavy, as though his lungs had already been filled with something that most certainly wasn’t oxygen.  The tightness in his chest worsened as he leafed through the journal that had been beside him on the ground, trying to see if it had a name for its owner on the cover or inside, or any hint about why he had it.  The “D” was nicely designed, but not terribly helpful.  Perusing the pages brought him to a detailed sketch of a young woman.  He stared at the image.  Whoever had drawn her had done so quite lovingly… capturing a woman with both energy and innocence.  As he gazed on the picture, his breath suddenly caught, and then he was coughing non-stop, making horrible noises as he tried to suck in air and ended up heaving.  He only narrowly missed the book.  Blood came out, worrying enough, but when he saw tiny lumps of  _blue_  among the crimson, he was even more alarmed and overcame disgust enough to pick up one lump.  Looking closer, it seemed to be rolled up rather than clumped together, edges stuck together by blood but easily unrolling with gentle prodding to reveal a tiny blue…

 

Petal?

 

Ringabel stared at it, completely at a loss.  Had he eaten a flower?  Was it normal to eat flowers?  Was it normal to fail at eating flowers so badly you nearly killed yourself?  He might have amnesia, but still, what kind of idiot was he?

His train of thought was derailed when he coughed up more blood, petals, and finally a leaf that was the biggest object so far.  It took a long time for him to stop trembling, and even if he was an idiot, he knew he needed to get help quickly if he was going to survive.  The mystery of the book would have to come later.  Luckily, he could make out plumes of smoke that showed where a city was not too far away.

 

He learned at Caldisla that he wasn’t ill from eating flowers.  Karl and Owen knew him, if only as acquaintances; he’d apparently helped Owen on a boar hunt before and had somehow been impressive enough for the father and son to graciously give him a bed when Owen found him on the way to collapsing in the streets.  Ringabel couldn’t figure out how he’d manage to contribute anything then when he felt like such a piteous thing now.

 

“It’s called love’s languish,” Owen explained, frowning heavily as Ringabel coughed more and more.  "It’s considered a disease by some, and a curse by others.  Those who love and are not loved in return have nowhere for their feelings to go, and instead their feelings take root as flowers, growing inside them.  Do you really not remember anything?“

 

Ringabel shook his head, sinking back into the bed.  "It’s all a blank, I’m afraid.”

 

“That seems…rather ironic.  Ah–forgive me.  I don’t mean to make light of your situation.”

 

Ringabel waved the concern off; he doubted Owen could say anything that would seriously offend him after he’d given him shelter.  But he was curious.  "What’s ironic about it?“

 

“The flowers in your lungs…Love’s languish isn’t common, thankfully, but I hear a person’s flowers usually have some personal significance to them.  Your flowers are forget-me-nots.”

 

“What?” Ringabel said in surprise, but he was already laughing, because Owen was right: that was ironic, and rather hilarious in an otherwise depressing situation.  But laughing irritated his already weakened lungs and throat, and he was soon coughing up blood again.  Owen quickly gave him a potion in the middle of apologizing.

 

Potions worked well at easing the pain the flowers caused.  White magic in general seemed to do the trick, and they already had a healer coming over to see a boy who had fallen into a coma when his entire town was destroyed–Ringabel took a small comfort in one sap having a worse lot than him.  Once the healer had done all she could for the boy, she came around and treated Ringabel.  She was a rather pretty brunette, young for the skill she seemed to possess, and Ringabel smiled in a way that he hoped was charming.  "I wonder if you’re the one I’ve been pining for?“

 

"That would mean you already missed your chance with me,” she reminded him with an easy smile.  "So don’t get any ideas, but I’ll need you to remove your shirt.“

 

Her manner with a patient was excellent, and her magic eased the weight in his chest.  He could breathe more easily after she was done, though when he breathed deeply enough, he could still feel an odd tickle.  Owen confirmed what he suspected: white magic could mend the damage to his lungs and throat, even push back the flowers, but their roots were buried in him and unwilling to let go.

 

"Love’s languish can only be fully cured one of two ways,” the knight told him.  "Either you have your love returned, or you get over your own feelings.“  Owen pursed his lips.  "To be honest–you’ve only been awake a little over a day, haven’t you?  If you can’t remember anything, you may already be cured.  The healer said it takes time for the flowers to wilt.  Not that I’d advocate head trauma as a solution, but you can’t be in love with someone you don’t even remember…”

 

The rationale made sense, but Ringabel shook his head.  "Oh, but I think I know the one I love.  In a manner of speaking.“  He pushed the journal he’d kept with him since his awakening forward and flipped it open, easily landing on the sketch of the spirited woman.  He let himself look at the image only briefly before pushing it at Owen for the knight’s inspection.  "Her name is Edea.  She’s a knight like yourself, actually, though only getting her start.  She’s beautiful, noble, idealistic–”

 

His breath caught, and Owen took the journal and closed it while Ringabel bent over in a coughing fit.  ” _Please_  don’t make yourself sick talking about her.  Aerith said to call her back if the Norende boy took a bad turn, but she may not feel as gracious about you deliberately aggravating your lungs.“

 

“Noted,” Ringabel wheezed.

 

Owen pursed his lips, giving the book an uneasy look.  "Well, then.  A knight? …She can’t be Caldislan.  I don’t think I’ve seen any knight who resembles that portrait.  And you’re sure the book isn’t–well–a work of fiction, right?“

 

"You think I’d make myself sick over a figment of the imagination?”  Ringabel had recovered just enough of his breath for indignation, and he put his air to that good use now.

 

“My apologies, but to be perfectly frank–you said you don’t remember  _anything_.  Is she the exception?”  Owen waited until Ringabel shook his head.  "Then all you know of her is the portrait and whatever this book says about her.  She may as well be a figment of your imagination.“

 

"No, no.  I may not remember, but I can feel it in my heart.  Edea is out there, waiting!  And perhaps she knows me.  I’ll find her, woo her, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

 

Owen opened his mouth, looking contentious, but then sighed.  "Just…don’t stray too far from town.  Not while you’re lovesick.“

* * *

 

In those first days, when he hadn’t yet found Edea and was still looking for her, Ringabel learned several things:

 

1\.  Dating girls was  _fun_.  
2\.  He was not always good about being delicate when he found out they weren’t Edea, though.  He had to work on that.  Every girl was a goddess, deserving nothing but the best!  But his worship was deeply personal and such.  His love was Edea.  He was sure of it.  
3\.  Girls were also less than charmed by a man plagued with Love’s Languish, taking it (rather accurately) as a sign that he was already in love with someone, and less accurately thinking that he was trying to–to  _use_  them to get over his love.  After a few unsuccessful tries to convince his date that he had meant no such thing, he wanted to  _find_  his love, Ringabel learned it was simpler to do everything he could to mask his disease as a simple cough.  An oversized handkerchief to catch and pocket stray petals helped, but he worried about what he would do if it got bad enough for him to be coughing up blood again.

 

As things turned out, he was not to find Edea by dating–instead he found her when her superior officer lit the abandoned house he’d been using aflame.  He’d always known their first meeting would be fireworks!  But, the way his heart had pounded when he’d seen her face, recognizing her with more certainty than he recognized  _himself_ , seemed to have excited the flowers inside him too much.  His lungs had that heavy, full feeling again, and as he introduced himself to the Vestal and the Norende boy who was clinging to her like a burr, Ringabel stopped short, coughing up blood, petals, leaves and all.  In less than three minutes, he knew how his future companions felt about his disease.

 

Tiz had never even heard of Love’s Languish outside of old tales, apparently.  His startled panic made Ringabel feel much better about his initial bafflement about the whole thing.  Yes, flowers did  _not_  belong in people.  But he did get the sense that Tiz could be an overbearing busybody when the boy started herding him into a chair, insisting he rest while a potion was fetched.

 

Agnès’ reaction was more… hurtful, especially coming from a lady.  Crystalists apparently believed Love’s Languish was a punishment for giving one’s self over to lust, and Ringabel stood absolutely no chance of convincing her his love for Edea was pure.

 

"You only know what she looks like,” Agnès told him.  "How could that be anything  _but_  lust?“

 

"I know her as… as the writer of the journal knew her!”  Though he was a bit short of breath at the moment, Ringabel was fully committed to arguing for his love.

 

The vestal’s expression was flat and wholly unconvinced.  "I highly doubt the writer wrote everything he knew about her.  And this journal is so badly damaged…“  She flipped through a few pages, frowning before she closed it.  "At any rate, three are  _not_  better than two in a fight if the third is ill.”

 

Ringabel frowned.  "Only if it’s not managed.  Potions and healing do the trick, and I will be responsible for managing it–thank you, Tiz.“  Seeing that Agnès still looked unconvinced, he pointed out: "The only reason I don’t have a potion on hand now is because of that rampaging fire mage.”

 

…Well, now she looked guilty, probably because the house had been burned in an attempt to have her turned over.  And now  _he_  felt like a cad.  He quickly downed the potion Tiz had given him so he could at least wash one bad feeling away.

 

“I…suppose your illness proves you are genuine about wanting to meet her, at least,” Agnès said slowly.

 

Ringabel’s eyebrows rose, but he was quick to say “Yes!  I’m genuine about everything I feel for her!”  He even sounded more convincing now that he could breathe properly.

 

Agnès ignored this.  "And it can be managed.“

 

"You don’t mind him being lecherous, Agnès?”  The tiny fairy next to her said.

 

Airy’s reaction to him was even more irksome than Agnès’–-he found her off-putting somehow.  Perhaps it was simply because Airy seemed to see him in an even worse light.  But a cryst-fairy would be even more steeped in Crystalist tradition, wouldn’t she… he supposed her scornful attitude made sense, but he didn’t have to like it.

 

“Every person has their faults,” Agnès said, very obviously not disagreeing with the idea that he was a lecher.  Really!  He hadn’t even looked at her bust!  Even though it was quite clear she had a substantial one and–simply having some naughty thoughts didn’t make one perverted, did it?  He straightened up when the vestal looked directly at him, making sure his own eyes were pointed directly at her face.  "If we  _do_  meet Edea, and your conduct toward her is anything less than that acceptable of a gentleman, then I will take responsibility and help her thoroughly reject you.“

 

"Of course I’ll be a gentleman,” Ringabel said weakly.  "You don’t have to be so strict.  I have a fragile heart…and lungs…“

 

"You can have the white mage asterisk then.  It’ll help you take care of yourself,” Tiz said.  When Ringabel looked at him incredulously, the boy smiled.  "You can’t push your luck too far with Agnès.  I wasn’t sure she’d let you come with at all.  But now you’ve got your chance to meet Edea, and you’ll work things out with her then, right?  So don’t worry.“

 

Odd for a boy who’d lost his entire village to be so optimistic, but Ringabel supposed he couldn’t argue that.  He  _was_  getting to meet Edea, and he’d take what he’d learned from his dates to sweep her off her feet, and perhaps he would remember what was in his past that merely the image of her tugged at his heart so strongly.  Then they could live quite happily…though they might need to help Tiz and Agnès still.  The world seemed to be in peril and all.

 

He was going to meet Edea.  Once the thought really sank in, he could feel butterflies in his stomach, and nearly asked Owen to make sure that that metaphor didn’t happen to be a literal one.  The last thing he wanted to do was start retching up butterfly wings too.  But he was going to meet Edea!  He could hardly wait.


	2. Chapter 2

Ringabel had made a plan for meeting Edea. Oh, he knew plans were likely to go awry, especially when meeting someone in enemy territory, but he figured roughly a week of dates that sometimes ended up in dangerous territory of their own had prepared him to adapt on the fly. He could at least plan the basic steps, right? Meet her, introduce himself, impress her with what skills he had discovered himself in possession of (mostly fighting and wooing, but he seemed to be a fairly good artist as well), and learn more about her.  
  
But the closer they drew to Grapp Keep, the more he started to panic over the very basic second step of introducing himself. Should he mention his illness? The little memory he possessed firmly pointed toward no: women did  _not_ appreciate Love’s Languish. Common sense was saying the longer he spent in Edea’s company, the more likely he was to start coughing petals in front of her, and then she might think him dishonest for not saying anything sooner. So he  _had_  to be upfront with her, unless he wanted to bank on her falling in love at first sight, which seemed a bit shallow (and how could the perfect woman be shallow?!).  
  
Ringabel hated his common sense and wanted to ignore it. Unfortunately, when he decided to ask a fellow man for advice, Tiz firmly seconded common sense.  
  
“Honestly, she’s probably going to know you’re lovesick before the day’s done. You get excited enough talking about her, who knows what being around her will do. You bought potions, right?”  
  
“I bought potions,” Ringabel confirmed miserably. If Tiz had this little faith in him, Agnès and Airy surely had even less. And what would Edea think?! He needed to make the  _best_  impression on the love of his life. But no, no, focusing on that would make him more nervous. He had this! He had this. He was cool, suave, debonair. And Edea was loving and forgiving enough that an innocent mistake could surely be mended.  
  
As it turned out, the writer of the journal hadn’t…quite gotten Edea right.  
  
Oh, make no mistake, Ringabel still thought she was the most amazing woman he would ever lay eyes on. From her petite but athletic figure, to the way her blue eyes blazed as she called out the black mage Ominas Crowe on his wickedness, to the adorable love for cuteness she must possess to go by the ribbon in her hair and the little bear decoration in her skirt, she really was a wonder to behold. But he was surprised by the bossiness with which she’d roped them into her fight, even if fully delighted to answer the call, and by the blunt way she addressed Agnès in the way Eternians saw her, a witch. Of course, Edea also showed the good judgment in seeing that perhaps Agnès might be the innocent woman Ringabel already knew the vestal to be, and Ringabel felt sure that on the whole, Edea  _was_  a paragon of virtue.  
  
He simply wasn’t sure ‘gentleness’ and 'forgiveness’ were among the virtues she prioritized. He was almost glad for the urgency with which they ended up putting aside any long conversations and returned to Caldisla, following the airships in the sky. …Only almost, because the airships disappeared from sight quite quickly, and they all knew whatever assault had been planned would likely already be done by the time they caught up. There was no breath to be wasted on talking with the brisk pace they kept; Agnès was soon panting, having the least stamina of the four of them from her sheltered lifestyle, and Ringabel found himself having to take care. His legs seemed plenty used to this kind of exertion, but his lungs felt heavy, and he didn’t want to set off a coughing attack. He couldn’t think of Edea. Not now, not until they’d helped the people of Caldisla.  
  
As it turned out, they were too late to help a few people; many of the castle’s guard had fallen in defense of the king. Among them, Owen. He shook his head at the potion Ringabel offered, saying it could still help others, but not him. The man’s last words were to ask Tiz to rescue his king.  
  
It was a gloomy evening. After Ringabel had done all he could–handing out potions to those soldiers who could still be saved, and soothing the cleaning lady at the inn, who’d sobbed at the news of Owen’s death–he longed to see Edea to lift his spirits. But there had been a small…cultural clash, perhaps, as Edea didn’t grasp at first why the innkeep Karl would grieve no matter how honorable his son’s death had been. Perhaps she found it hard to grasp more because her country had caused the grief to begin with. Not to mention Agnès was still balking at the idea of an Eternian being one of her companions, despite the help Edea had already given and what the journal said. Edea had gotten upset and had gone off somewhere, and Ringabel thought it might be better to give her some time to come to terms on her own. Even setting aside the tiff with Agnès, Edea’s whole life had been upset today, hadn’t it? She’d seen two of her own fellow soldiers killed by her superior officer, and had then slain the superior officer herself, making her a traitor, and now the deaths in town caused by her own country–and for her talk of honorable deaths, had she ever seen someone die so violently before?  
  
As soon as Ringabel found himself pondering that question, he was up and out of the inn to find Edea. Leaving her alone had been a  _stupid_  idea. She should know she had someone by her side. Anyone in her shoes should! He ought to be there by her side, always.  
  
It took him about a little over a half-hour to find her. She was coming back into the city–Ringabel was a bit upset to realize she could have vanished without him knowing, but it didn’t seem she’d gone far. There were bunches of wildflowers in her dirt-covered hands.  
  
“For Owen,” she said to his questioning gaze. “And the other knights. I thought–it’s stupid, though. I should have been getting ready to leave for Lontano Villa tomorrow. And I suppose she sent you after me, huh? I haven’t proven I’m not a double-crosser.”  
  
“Agnès did no such thing,” Ringabel assured her. “And this isn’t stupid at all. It’s very kind of you.”  
  
The day had definitely gotten to her, then, but she at least seemed to be dealing with it in her way. A very kind, gentle-hearted way–  
  
Love’s Languish seemed to have no sense of timing. Ringabel had meant only to accompany Edea as she got ribbon and divided the flowers into loosely-tied bouquets, but perhaps because he felt so strongly about her kindness, he felt a tickle in his throat. And then he started to cough. For the first minute or so, the coughs were gentle and far enough apart that he could be discreet. But Edea turned to look at him with first irritation, and then concern when he started coughing too hard to cover with his handkerchief, one after another.  
  
“I thought before you just had a cough. What’s wrong with you?”  
  
These were not the circumstances he had wanted to confess his love to Edea in, but unlike before, they had the time. And she was asking. He waited until his coughing seemed to have died a bit; Edea did not look in the mood to be very patient, but she did wait.  
  
“My apologies, dear Edea,” he said. “I wanted to tell you earlier–” He would have liked to tell her the moment he saw her, except the illness made it very clear she didn’t feel the same yet– “But, well, you know how this day has gone. Quite a trial, but you’ve been spirited through all of it, just as I expected when I read about you in this journal.”  
  
“That book is still creepy,” Edea said, giving it a suspicious glance. “What’s this got to do with you…?” She trailed off.  
  
Perhaps she was already starting to realize? It figured that he would fall in love with an intelligent woman. Ringabel looked up and made himself smile, even though Edea did not seem pleased. Of course she wouldn’t be. She didn’t love him yet. He would be charming no matter what! “The moment I saw you, I felt like I’d been struck to the heart with a thundaga. But you’ve been stealing my breath away even before that.”  
  
“…Don’t be daft,” she sighed. Even though he knew she didn’t feel the same, hearing her dismiss his confession so bluntly hurt a little, and he pressed his lips shut and swallowed against the tickle in his throat. She shook her head and turned back to the wildflowers. “You aren’t playing with me, right? You really have hanahaki disease?”  
  
“What?” Maybe she hadn’t figured it out. “No, no, it’s called Love’s Languish.”  
  
“Flowers in your lungs?” Ringabel nodded, and Edea continued. “It’s the same thing. 'Hanahaki disease’ is what Master Kamiizumi and my father call it. I suppose it’s Love’s Languish here. But you said you had no memory, so you must not remember. It takes  _time_  for the flowers to grow. We only just met today. And you had it even before you saw me?” The blonde shook her head again. “Sorry, but there’s no way I’m the one you fell sick for.”  
  
“But I know you’re the one! Isn’t there any way we might have known each other? I–I–!” Ringabel couldn’t speak any further. The distress he felt at having his feelings so easily brushed aside proved too much. As he started coughing again, he could already feel, to his horror, something coming up.  
  
When he started gagging between coughs, his throat protesting whatever was coming up, Edea abandoned the flowers for the graves and grabbed his arm and opposite shoulder, steadying him. “Easy! Easy. Sit down and let it come up. I’ll get a potion ready.”  
  
He felt shaky enough on his legs to take her assistance as they both sat on the grass. After even more gagging and coughing, the largest mass yet came up: blood, two leaves, and four whole forget-me-not blossoms. At least the blossoms were tiny, but to see the whole mess, Ringabel wasn’t surprised at all why his eyes had started watering. That had hurt. And Edea had seen the whole pathetic display. At least he’d gotten it on the grass, instead of himself or her. Small comfort.  
  
…She said she had a potion though, right? A good thing, as he’d ended up giving his away in the aftermath of the Sky Knights’ assault. He turned to ask her for it. Edea indeed had one in her hands, but her grasp was tight on it as she stared at the flowers. Ringabel was reaching for some kind of joke he could make to break the sudden awkwardness, even though he wasn’t sure his throat could get a punchline out at the moment, when her head jerked and she stared at  _him_  instead.  
  
“ _Alternis?_  What kind of sick joke is this?”  
  
Any thought of joking fled. And Ringabel was starting to think he should flee himself. Edea’s hands were so tense on the potion bottle, he thought it might break, and her eyes were narrowed with the same incandescent rage she’d shown Ominas Crowe. “Edea, h-hold up,” he croaked. “I don’t play with women’s feelings. And whatever this 'Alternis’ is, I don’t know why you think…”  
  
“Alternis is a 'who’,” Edea said, “though maybe 'what’ is appropriate, since he acts like a wind-up doll sometimes. Sorry.” She still looked uneasy, but the intensity of the moment had passed as she looked away from his face and pushed the potion bottle at him without a word. Ringabel chose to drink first before rasping out his thanks. “It didn’t even make sense of me to think that. Alternis doesn’t even have hanahaki anymore, and if he was in the area, the Dark Knight would be at Lontano Villa. It startled me though. You saying you’re lovesick over me, and coughing up the same flower he had…”  
  
“Forget-me-nots,” Ringabel said, taking time between words to sound as smooth as one could with a raw throat, “For an unforgettable lady.”  
  
Edea did look at him then, to roll her eyes. “For a moment, I thought you were him. You have the same coloring. White-blond hair and all. Don’t know about the eyes, though. And I think the features are different.” She peered at his face.  
  
Ringabel fought the urge to hide as much as possible behind his handkerchief. “You think? You don’t think I’m handsomer?” If Alternis had been lovesick for Edea, he was competition, and Ringabel wanted to be  _better_. But given that coughing attack, he doubt he looked very handsome at the moment.  
  
“The man lives in his helmet. I couldn’t possibly say what he does look like, let alone if he’s handsome. He might appeal to other creatures that never see the sun.”  
  
Ringabel smiled then. She was clearly  _not_  about to fall in love with Alternis. Edea was too bright and radiant for such a gloomy-sounding individual.  
  
Except…wait. Alternis  _had_  had the hanahaki illness. He  _had_  been lovesick for Edea. But he wasn’t any longer. Perhaps he’d fallen out of love with Edea–but that seemed just as unreasonable. She was perfect!  
  
“Is….is he the one you love?” Ringabel asked, trying very hard not to let on his upset. It would make sense though, wouldn’t it, if he was lovesick because Edea had already fallen in love? Even if it was with a…with a…so far, Alternis sounded like a vampire, and that was what Ringabel pictured. A white-blond vampire that looked a little like him, except with uglier features, being a vampire, and that was why Alternis hid his appearance away in a helmet, except Edea wasn’t shallow so she loved him anyway–  
  
This sullen train of thought was interrupted by a loud snort from Edea. “I don’t know  _how_  you got that idea, but no. Please. He’s a childhood friend of mine, that’s all.”  
  
He had  _history_  with Edea. Ringabel burned a little at that thought, even as he told himself Edea had flatly refuted loving Alternis. “Then how was his hanahaki cured?”  
  
“He got his flowers removed, obviously.”  
  
Ringabel looked at Edea blankly.  
  
“I’m guessing you haven’t gotten yours out yet because it takes a little time to make the arrangements, and you’ve been busy following Tiz and Agnès.”  
  
He kept looking at her blankly. She noticed and canted her head.  
  
“…Did  _no one_  tell you that was an option?”  
  
“…No,” Ringabel said finally. “I don’t think  _they_  knew it was an option either. I mean–people were quite concerned. Man retching flowers and blood, after all. Owen and the healer who saw me kept giving me advice, telling me how to keep it in check, but they didn’t–how do you get them removed?”  
  
Edea shook her head in disbelief, with a mutter of “mrgrgr” and “ _backwards_ ”. “It’s a simple enough procedure in Eternia. If Agnès plans to awaken  _all_  the crystals, she’ll have to head there too, in time.” She stood, offering a hand to him, but Ringabel pushed himself up on his own. He was feeling better now, after the potion! He had to maintain some dignity. She put her hand on her hips, looking up at him. “If we make it to Eternia, you could make arrangements with any qualified doctor. You don’t have to live with lovesickness and a broken heart. That would be just–” She cast an eye at the flowers for the graves, and finished softly: “sad.”  
  
She fell silent after that, and went back to the wildflowers to gather them up in her hands; Ringabel took half, so that it would be a little less awkward for her to carry. His mind was churning with thought as they returned to the inn. He hardly regretted the bit of pain he’d suffered since waking up for his love. But it would be easier to court Edea if he wasn’t ill. It would be easier for everything.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, now that we’ve seen the king back safely,” Ringabel said, inching the airship’s wheel this way and that to test how the Eschalot responded, “Which way is it to Eternia?”  
  
“Eternia?” Tiz looked alarmed. “You want to go straight into enemy territory?”  
  
“Well, we have to go there anyway, don’t we?” Ringabel asked. “To awaken the earth crystal, wasn’t it? You’re exactly right that it’s enemy territory. That’s why it seems best to me to strike out for there immediately, before they know we’ve got one of their airships. We can make use of the element of surprise.”  
  
Agnès seemed to be considering this, even as she worried her lip nervously. “I should report back to the King of Ancheim as soon as possible, but if this would be the best chance…”  
  
“No, it’s not,” Edea said, shaking her head. “Eternia is to the northwest, but the Eschalot’s engine isn’t powerful enough to clear the mountains. We’d have to land at Gathelatio, and that’s not an option with the sea as it is–”  
  
“Gathelatio is not an option  _ever_ ,” Agnès cut in. “Unacceptable! Do you realize what you’re suggesting?!”  
  
“Whoa, whoa! I agree with you, we shouldn’t go there!”  
  
“Why would going to Gathelatio be bad, Agnès?” Tiz asked, drawing some of the heat away from Edea.  
  
The vestal let out a sigh. “Before the templar’s usurping, Eternia was actually the homeland of Crystalism. Only Florem has been as devout. I don’t mean to say anything bad about other countries by this; I have been blessed to be able to serve the people of Ancheim. But Eternia had the most believers. And despite the rebellion fifteen years ago changing sentiments in most of Eternia, Gathelatio has remained a center of Crystalist worship. They receive a certain… ‘tolerance’ from the templar’s forces.” While the question had distracted her from being upset with Edea, Agnès did slant her eyes at the other girl now, causing the Eternian to squirm.  
  
“Let me guess,” Ringabel said. He could see where this was going. “The instant the templar receives news that a stolen airship has been spotted near the city, that 'tolerance’ goes up in smoke. With other things following soon after.”  
  
“It would likely be a repeat of Caldisla,” Edea confirmed. “But ten times worse. My…” She paused, and shook her head before starting again. “The Grand Marshal tries to be reasonable, but he made his terms of peace clear. If he thought they were aiding Agnès, there would be blood running in the streets. I’ve no doubt about that. I didn’t mean to say we should go there!”  
  
“All right, it’s been made clear that Eternia is out of the question for now.” Ringabel hoped his disappointment didn’t show too much. While he’d thought the element of surprise made a good argument for tackling Eternia first, he had to admit he’d suggested it for his own reasons. Seeing Edea’s homeland to understand her better and getting the flowers removed from his lungs were both very tempting prospects. But apparently they’d need to come up with something truly creative, or have a miracle dropped in their laps. Accepting this, he turned the wheel to guide the airship in another direction, enjoying the sensation of how the vessel banked just so. He had done this before, hadn’t he? Good thing he remembered the how, even if he couldn’t remember for the life of him when or why. “So, Agnès, you said you need to report to the King of Ancheim? That sounds like our next destination. Refresh my memory–amnesia joke, by the way. Which way to Ancheim?”  
  
If that had been the only awkward conversation aboard the  _Eschalot_ , it would have been quite the pleasant trip to the desert country. Unfortunately, there was one more. Ringabel supposed it was  _his_  fault, for bringing up the dates he’d had before meeting Edea–half wanting to please her with the knowledge that he’d put in the effort to practice for meeting her, half wanting to see if she’d get jealous, and all right, his reasons  _hadn’t_  been pure, but did he really deserve this?!  
  
“You should probably keep dating other women. If you can keep finding women who want to date you.”  
  
Not a shred of jealousy! Cool as the proverbial cucumber! Even skeptical that he really had gone on dates! It made his lungs ache a little, and he rubbed his chest. “Edea, darling, as much as I appreciate your scathing wit, go a little easy on me?”  
  
“Oh, since you asked,” she said, and even though her tone was very obviously fake, too simpering for her, it actually did make him feel better. “But trying to make me jealous on purpose is quite black of you.”  
  
He coughed and made a face. There was a petal in his handkerchief. It looked like it was time for another potion.  _And_  an apology, since she had a point. “I’m sorry. But why should I date anyone else? I’ve already found the most beautiful angel.”  
  
Edea raised a hand, and then one finger on that hand. “This is what I know. I have a working memory, and I’ve no recollection of ever meeting you before.” A second finger. “ _You_  have no memory. What you have is a very weird and creepy book.” A third finger. “Even though you’ve no memory, you do genuinely love  _someone_. But you only think it’s me because whoever wrote that book drew me in it.” She made a face. “Again, weird and creepy.” She started to raise a fourth finger, then changed her mind and closed her hand into a fist, pointing only her index finger at Ringabel. “You need to figure out who it is you’re truly in love with. Date more women. Normal people don’t let a book tell them what to do.”  
  
“But I’m sure you’re the one,” Ringabel insisted. “And even if–just as a possibility–some very beautiful lady manages to sway me, what if she’s the wrong woman, but I fall in love with her? What if she falls in love with me?”  
  
“Uh, then you’re cured of your illness and the two of you are happy in love. I wouldn’t consider that a problem.” Edea shook her head. “Love is always white. If your book really tells the future, maybe that’s why you’re not in it? You find a nice girl who doesn’t mind you’ve taken a few knocks on the head and settle down with her.”  
  
The thought of that still had Ringabel grimacing hours later. Oh, he wouldn’t mind settling down with Edea, even if the mental image of how it would play out was quite vague. It was hard to picture Edea as a housewife. She  _had_  been one of the sky knights. Perhaps he would have to be the househusband, though he wasn’t quite sure he could commit to that yet. But putting aside that conundrum, Edea’s picture of the future didn’t have them together at all! Feeling quite sulky about that, Ringabel put off drinking his potion until he’d coughed up a good half dozen more petals. At that point the pain was worsening and Tiz was beginning to pester him about if he’d misplaced the potion, so Ringabel healed himself to make both stop.  
  
Though his lungs were still heavy, his heart did lighten upon seeing the women of Ancheim. As a group they were quite different from the women of Caldisla. Back on the island country, Agnès’ skin had been a shade darker than most women’s, but here, Agnès’ skin tone was among the lightest. Only Edea had fairer skin, and the Eternian was quick to get under shade when she could, muttering about sunburn. Ringabel probably should have followed her, considering his own skin tone started to turn pink at the end of their first day in the city, but she’d told him to look at other women! And the women of Ancheim were captivating, to the point where he stood still in place as one statuesque beauty approached him, not realizing he was in trouble for having stared until the slap added more red to his face.  
  
“Tiz, why didn’t you warn me?”  
  
“I thought you’d realize. You seemed to be observing her closely enough.”  
  
“I know you looked too! I’m sure you’ve never seen a woman like her before either. Quite striking–literally.”  
  
Tiz sighed. “Don’t  _stare_  at people, Ringabel. You’ll make them self-conscious. And everyone seems to be harried enough already.”  
  
The younger boy had slipped out of denying or confirming his own attentions, Ringabel noticed, but the last part did give him pause. People here  _did_  seem to be under stress, man and woman alike. And that king before had been speaking of lengthening the work day… plus, he’d been cruelly unfair to Agnès, accusing her of dawdling or even abandoning her duty without a solid basis. Perhaps he was just too quick to conclusions, but it had looked like he was trying to incite the crowd against her. Awakening the wind crystal and setting both Agnès and the women of Ancheim at ease would have to come before any dates, with Edea or with others.  
  
Of course, Airy was quick to tell them that reawakening the wind crystal was no simple task, thus why Agnès needed a cryst-fairy like her. First she had to be dressed in a sacred garment, and no, the “hole-y” dress they’d found left behind would not do, no matter how many times Ringabel asked. He was simply asking so they could avoid a side trip if it wasn’t necessary! Although meeting the Sage turned out quite interesting, it was not so fun when they not only had to gather a rare and obscure rainbow thread, but were attacked by a dragon while doing so. Then it was waiting for the Sage to put together Agnès’ dress, then back to Ancheim, then stumbling on travellers being attacked and robbed at the oasis, then going after the thief while Airy fussed that they were being distracted from the big picture, then Edea overriding Airy and yelling that the big picture was the note telling about a conspiracy between the thief Jackal and the merchant Profiteur, and then, after confronting the merchant of death, they were finally ready to get back to the temple of Wind, but were attacked by a two-headed dog the second they even approached the crystal.  
  
Apparently saving the world was not meant to be a simple task at any step of the way, since they still had a king to confront in public with the evidence of Agnès being blameless, and then last was following up on that note they had found at Profiteur’s place suggesting a third party had been involved in the monopoly on Ancheim’s water. Funnily enough, it turned out to be the king. The man really had been up to no good.  
  
At the end of it all, they had a brilliantly shining crystal, a cooling breeze, a grateful country, and not a single date for Ringabel. He’d almost had something with Talora, and then Airy had come zipping along to scold him, making the poor girl think  _she_  had to apologize for antagonizing the cryst-fairy! Naturally he’d reassured her that she had done nothing wrong, but now there was no date at all. He contented himself with watching how the new wind made women’s skirts flutter around their legs as he and Airy brought up the rear. Then Airy started pulling on his ear to make him go faster, ending the skirt-gazing.  
  
How was he supposed to practice for Edea if they were always going back and forth so frenetically? Though he supposed the next destination of Florem held promise. Only inhabited by women, hm? Then Tiz would be his only competition. And, with all apologies to the boy, he was still a boy. He didn’t seem to even be aware of the charms women possessed! Judging by the maps, a short flight of four or five hours would see Ringabel in paradise. They had to prepare before takeoff, though, as the Prime Minister of Harena had generously donated supplies for their journey that had needed loading, and the waves of the sea against the Eschalot eventually got to Ringabel’s stomach, sending him to the shore for a break. His throat could be agitated enough with his lovesickness; he didn’t want to risk his nausea leading to even  _more_  things coming up. The pretty seashells scattered on the beach provided a nice distraction; he picked several up, thinking Edea might like a few. Agnès, too.  
  
He came back on board to find both girls looking distressed, and Tiz between them had lost all the color from his face. There was also vomit near the younger man’s boots, and he excused himself to clean up with the weakest voice Ringabel had ever heard out of him.  
  
“Does he get seasick too?” Ringabel asked the girls, taken aback by the unexpected display. “He could have come with me.”  
  
Edea frowned, sighing. “Ringabel…did you even notice anything?”  
  
“Yes,” Ringabel said, glancing at the mess on the deck and then away again. The poor ship. And poor Tiz, he supposed. “I would have preferred not to.”  
  
“No, I mean–mrgrgr.  _Look._ ” Edea pointed a finger, and Ringabel obediently looked to where it pointed, to where a glittering mess of glass shards lay all over the deck and hang on, where was the skystone?  
  
…Those shards weren’t glass, they were  _crystal_. The skystone.  
  
“What happened here?!”  
  


* * *

  
  
Before that day, Ringabel had thought he would have had a knack for sensing when danger was afoot, just as he had a talent for piloting an airship. Part of having a rogue’s charm. Apparently that idea had been completely wrong, and now the ship he’d been growing to like had been brought low and constrained to the inner sea, unable to help them reach Florem, because he had completely missed Edea’s  _charming_  friend making a visit. The dark knight Alternis Dim had struck Tiz by surprise and broken the skystone to ground their group.  
  
“Really! You’d think with how long they’ve known each other, he would at least hear her out before breaking ships and punching people,” Ringabel complained.  
  
“It would have been nice,” Tiz agreed. Now that he’d had time to recover from the punch, his color was back to normal, though he winced every once in a while as they trudged toward the miasma woods that separated Ancheim from Florem. “He thought we’d kidnapped her though. And once she told him she was with us of her own free will, he  _really_  lost it.”  
  
“Alternis has always been like that,” Edea said blandly. “He tries to act stoic, but he couldn’t keep a cool head unless he was risking frostbite.”  
  
“And you have a passion to match,” Ringabel mused. “I must have missed quite the row.”  
  
“ _Excuse_  me?”  
  
Ringabel quickly raised his hands in surrender, though he didn’t miss the slightest smile on Agnès’ face, and he was a bit suspicious of how conveniently Tiz had to cough into his hand at that moment. “There’s nothing wrong with having passion, is there? You were defending Tiz and Agnès!”  
  
She stared him down longer than he would have liked, but after a few seconds, Edea accepted it, turning back around and leading the way. “At any rate, I hope that’s the last we see of him. But Alternis seemed to have other ideas, and he’s known for his tenacity. I’d keep an eye out for him.”  
  
“…To be honest, I’m still surprised you two are childhood friends,” Agnès said quietly. “Some of the things he said were…quite harsh.”  
  
Edea offered only a half-hearted shrug. Ringabel frowned. Just what had Alternis said? “Of course, he’s only angry at me for how this might reflect on my parents. I couldn’t have expected anything else from him.”  
  
“Not concerned for your safety?” Ringabel said. “I would expect that, given his feelings.”  
  
“ _What_  feelings? I told you, he got his flowers removed.”  
  
“What? But, what does that have to do with…” Ringabel completely stopped in his confusion. Alternis loved Edea. He’d had Love’s Languish, Hanahaki disease because she didn’t reciprocate, and he was only cured because he’d had the flowers removed. Wasn’t that what Edea had told him before? But nothing about that meant the man should no longer love her.  
  
Tiz made a small 'hm?’, slowing in his steps as he looked between Ringabel and Edea, but it took the girl a couple more seconds before she stopped walking ahead. “Oh, I see…I suppose I didn’t really explain well enough before. It’s fairly common knowledge in Eternia.” Ringabel couldn’t see her face, as she remained facing forward, but he saw how her head turned down, her hand resting on her chest. “The surgery is to remove the flowers, but because they’re the manifestation of emotions, the person loses those feelings too. It’s apparently typical for people to be indifferent toward the former object of their affection afterward. Though, in Alternis’ case…”  
  
She didn’t seem to want to finish that thought, and Ringabel was too upset to indulge in curiosity and ask. “That’s a very critical detail,” he said, his throat tight. “It would be one thing if it simply cured people, but when it deprives them of their feelings–”  
  
“Of one feeling! One feeling that was making them  _miserable_!” Now Edea did turn around, stomping her foot as she did. “You are suffering for some girl you don’t even remember, don’t tell me that’s reasonable!”  
  
“It’s you, I’ve told you, I know it is!”  
  
“You have  _no memory_.”  
  
“I do still remember that I have amnesia, funny enough. I may have no memory, but I have my heart, and I know, it’s you.”  
  
“And I don’t love you.”  
  
In the corner of one eye, Ringabel could see Tiz and Agnès having a small exchange between themselves and putting a few extra feet between the two of them and Edea and him. He supposed this was starting to seem like a fight, and he tried taking a step back himself, despite the pressure he felt building up in his chest.  
  
“I know you don’t. But I have hopes you may in the future, and even if–”  
  
Edea was just not having it. “Ohh, no. No. I’ve heard the 'even if you don’t’ before, and it’s not true. You have hopes. That’s all. And I can tell you right now, I don’t love you, I am not going to fall in love with you, and if you want to stop coughing up flowers, your choices are either moving on of your own accord, or getting the surgery to help you move on. It’s those two. Your pick. Because I  _don’t_  feel particularly attracted to shamelessly flirty men who lack common sense–”  
  
Ringabel took a deep breath. Or tried to. Between the thickness of the miasma in the air and the flowers tangling in his lungs, his breath caught, and Agnès looked sharply at him before stepping forward.  
  
“Edea, you two may have this discussion once we are clear of the woods, but not a moment sooner. Ringabel, …save your breath and take care of yourself.”  
  
“We’ve only restored one crystal’s light!” Airy chimed in from Agnès’ shoulder. “We don’t have time for silly arguments!”  
  
Edea huffed an aggrieved sigh. “Even if Alternis hates me now, at least he  _can_ argue with me without coughing up flowers,” she muttered. She’d clearly caught his trouble too, and Ringabel turned away from the others with shame burning his cheeks as he waited for his breathing to calm. She’d gotten him good with that unflattering description, and …if she really saw him that way, perhaps it would be better to get the flowers removed, with a chunk of his heart besides.  
  
But to be indifferent to her? To  _hate_  her? The way she’d touched her chest while talking about the surgery’s side effect…even though she played it off as a necessary consequence, he was fairly sure it bothered her that her childhood friend no longer liked her, even if he was in better health now. But he had to leave the matter alone for now. She was upset, and so was he. Only Tiz chattered, trying to restore a better mood in the group, and even his efforts petered out after they went nowhere. The group made the rest of their way through the miasma woods in relative silence.


End file.
